


The Jogger

by velocitygrass



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 20:44:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3461393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velocitygrass/pseuds/velocitygrass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There aren't many people walking by in general, so Rodney notices when one morning a jogger dressed in black shirt and track pants passes his house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Jogger

**Author's Note:**

> Written for McSheplets challenge #125: Lazy. (And for context: my original idea for the fic was Rodney thinking that he'd almost consider jogging himself just to be closer to the guy but then dismissing the thought because he's too lazy. That bit was lost once I wrote it.)

Rodney's desk is at the window so that he knows exactly when he can ignore the bell and when he better get it. There aren't many people walking by in general, so Rodney notices when one morning a jogger dressed in black shirt and track pants passes his house. His hair is standing up ridiculously, and Rodney's pretty sure he's never seen him before but shrugs it off.

In the next few days, Rodney sees him again every morning around the same time. Rodney doesn't work on Sundays, but that morning he still catches himself walking up to his desk around the time the jogger usually comes to catch a glimpse of him.

And yes, it's slightly pathetic, but Rodney's working hard on his current project, so he deserves a bit of eye candy, and this jogger is more up his alley than the young blonde with her swinging ponytail, perky breasts, and tight pink outfit who also runs by regularly. There's something rugged about his handsome, dark-haired jogger that gets Rodney's imagination flowing.

On Monday, Rodney realizes that he could get his mail earlier than he usually does and it would coincide with the jogger running by. He looks down the street and when he catches the first glimpse of him, Rodney walks out the door, trying to be casual about looking down the road and 'noticing' the jogger.

Damn. He's even better looking up close. The jogger nods towards Rodney, and Rodney nods back, getting his mail as the guy runs past before turning and looking at the disappearing form for no longer than two seconds.

Rodney smiles as he gets himself another coffee and reads the mail. His mornings have definitely just gotten a lot better.

The next morning Rodney doesn't debate with himself how pathetic it is to time getting his mail with a stranger's running routine and just does it. He's too busy to look for a relationship right now, and there's no reason not to make his mornings a bit more pleasant by greatly enhancing the view for a few seconds.

They nod at each other again, and maybe it's his imagination, but there was a hint of a smile in his stranger's face.

Rodney makes this his new mail routine. They nod and smile at each other. Rodney gets a warm feeling in his gut and some masturbation material, and then he can continue to work with a smile on his face and a nice memory for the day.

Until Friday.

It's the same as every morning, but after nodding at Rodney, the jogger stops to stretch in place right in front of Rodney. Rodney's so perplexed that he only gapes for a moment. God, his stranger is not just gorgeous but really flexible. And pausing right in front of Rodney, which is like an invitation to talk to him. Maybe it _is_ one.

"You're new in the neighborhood, aren't you?" is the best Rodney can come up with.

The stranger nods. "I moved into Mrs. Klein's house," he says, stretching his arms up, which makes one side of his shirt slide out of his track pants. Rodney swallows a whimper at the sight of a sliver of skin. Then he tries to process what the stranger said. He doesn't even know the names of his direct neighbors let alone anyone living further. The stranger seems to catch on and adds, "Number seventeen," pointing down the road.

"Ah," Rodney says. "I, uh, don't see much of my neighbors. Lot of work," he adds awkwardly.

The stranger frowns. "Really? I think I've seen you every day for the last week."

"Uh," Rodney says and swallows. He can feel his face heating.

The stranger twists his torso and raises one eyebrow before grinning. 

"So, do you live alone?" Rodney asks. He's pretty sure his cover is blown, so asking this won't make it worse, and then at least he'll know just how unrealistic his fantasies are.

"No," the stranger says. "My nieces gave me a fish for the new house. But other than Hobbes no one else."

"You named your fish 'Hobbes'?" Rodney asks.

"He's orange with black stripes," the stranger explains. "So he—"

"Looks like a tiger and Calvin and Hobbes..." Rodney finishes for him.

The stranger's face lights up. He looks at Rodney for a moment, then asks, "Maybe you can tell me good places to hang out in the area. What do you do after a hard day of work?"

"I?" Rodney asks nervously. "I mostly relax in my living room."

"Ah," the stranger says. "I was thinking more of something open to the public. Unless you wouldn't mind me hanging out with you." He tilts his head in question, rolling his shoulders back and forth. It makes his muscles move in interesting ways.

Then Rodney realizes what the stranger said. He wants to hang out with Rodney. Or would. "Yes," Rodney says. "I mean, no, I wouldn't mind."

The stranger looks pleasantly surprised. "Really?"

"Bring some beer, and I can provide snacks. Today at seven?" Rodney says, feeling brave.

"It's a date," the stranger says, smiling widely. "See you at seven." He jogs on, and Rodney watches him, not at all ashamed to keep looking for a lot longer than two seconds.

The stranger looks over his shoulder back at Rodney, and when he sees him still watching, he turns around and jogs in place for a few seconds, before jogging back to Rodney. "Just to avoid any misunderstandings," he begins, and Rodney's face falls. This was too good to be true. "I'm gay and interested."

Rodney doesn't breathe for a moment. Then he exhales. "Me too. I mean I'm not gay but interested."

The stranger quirks an eyebrow up in question. "Not gay?"

"Bisexual," Rodney clarifies. The stranger smiles. "I'd hardly be straight and interested," Rodney adds.

"You wouldn't be the first 'straight' guy," the stranger says, looking at bit wary. "But I'm glad you're not." He smiles again.

"Definitely not," Rodney says, thinking about the fantasies he's had about this guy.

"My name's John," John says.

"Rodney," Rodney says.

John's gaze dips to Rodney's mouth for a second, but he only smiles and starts jogging away again. "See you at seven, Rodney," he throws over his shoulder.

Rodney watches after him. John looks back at him again. He smiles but doesn't stop this time. Rodney keeps watching until John rounds the corner and disappears.

He goes back inside with a spring in his step and plans in his head.


End file.
